So, everyone is drunk. The basic breakdown to the evening is thus. I woke up, Gran had a stroke, I complained about the noise, the reasoning behind it was explained. "Your Gran is having a stroke." Much like I often do, or am I referring to something else?! Who knows, but I am not disturbed. We are all animals and sometimes, often, we die. So, I got a parcel from the lovely lass and it included a phone (so now I am mobile again - same number and all that), a letter that left nothing to the imagination and is document I imagine I will be studying at great length and with much exertion, plus, and this is ingenius and it shows she knows me so well so soon, a copy of 1969's June issue of Playboy. What a gift. The porn is miniscule but relevant, and I am loving the appreciation it gives me of the epoch. The adverts. I shan't attempt to describe them but, trust me, it is a gift worth having. The girl is a player. I want to be with her right now, but she is miles away. What is to be done? I know, I should catch a plane. She will wait, she will simmer and then, when the time is right, we shall be together. Nuff said.